The explanation makes sense, but I’m surprised by how disappointed I am from it. It’s embarrassing how quickly myfeelings for Max can resurface no matter how hard I push them away.
“Right,” I whisper. “Well, sorry I looked that last time and wrecked your victory plan.”
He shakes his head. “Actually, don’t be.”
Then he smiles and walks away.
Chapter Seventeen
It’s been almost twenty-four hours, and I’m still thinking about Max’s words from last night. What did he mean when he saiddon’t be? All he cares about is winning—and, equally importantly, beating me. Had he wanted me to look at him? I can’t understand why.
Well…that’s not entirely true.
There is one possible explanation, but the idea is so ludicrous that I must be wrong. There’s no way Max could be interested in me. I might have had the biggest crush on him when we were young, but he never felt the same. I’m not sure he even paid attention to the fact I was a girl. To him, I was just another friend to mess around with.
Mom pops her head into my room, forcing me to take out my earbuds for the fifth time this afternoon. She’s so insistent on interrupting me that I can’t even listen to my angry, angsty girl anthems in peace.
“Just heard from Melanie that she and Max are coming an hour early. And Kelsey’s nagging me about going to Aunt Mary’s, so I’m going to drop her off before they get here.”
“They’re coming early? Whose idea was that?”
Mom cocks her head in confusion. “Uh, I didn’t ask. Do you want me to text her back?”
I shudder at the idea of Mom and Melanie being go-betweens for us like we’re eight.
“No, it’s fine. Sorry, stupid question.”
“All right.” She studies me. “Let me know if you need anything tonight.”
I will myself to forget all my questions and thoughts about Max and focus on the game. That’s what’s important. We had a good first session, and tonight has the possibility of being even better, but only if I focus on being an awesome Dungeon Master and keep all this emotional baggage away from the game table.
Of course, all that goescompletelyout the window as soon as Max and his mom walk in the house. For a moment they’re distracted by taking off their shoes and messing with their bags, and I get a chance to study Max. He’s wearing those black jeans that are almost too tight on him and look really good. He has on a slim gray shirt that matches his eyes and shows off the definition in his shoulders and arms. I know the color gray is supposed to be boring and blah, but not when it’s associated with him. The color does funny things to my heart. All those feelings from years ago are rebounding back into my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Hazel? Do you mind giving me a hand?”
I open my eyes. Mom and Melanie are still chatting by the front door, but Max is at the entrance to the kitchen with too many grocery bags and a confused look on his face.
I step forward, mentally kicking myself. “What did you bring?” I ask and peek in a bag. “More nacho supplies?”
“I figured since you’re doing all the DMing work, I could bring the food again.” He walks into the kitchen and drops the bags on the closest counter. “Plus I had an epic idea.”
He pulls out two of the largest rolls of foil I’ve ever seen. His grin is way too cocky to be related to kitchen supplies.
“I’m scared.”
“We’re making table nachos! My mom saw the idea online.” Max pulls more things from the bags. He’s so animated tonight. “We’re going to cover your kitchen table with this foil to protect it, then we spread out all the chips, add all our toppings, and eat them off the table like it’s an enormous plate. I thought we could make enough for the whole group. What do you think?”
“That my parents will lose their minds when they see the mess.”
“Nah, it’ll be an easy cleanup—we just ball the foil up at the end and throw it in the trash. It seemed fitting to start each Sunday with nachos. Like you and I used to.”
My skin flushes at his reminder. “Your obsession with nachos needs to be studied. But this does sound epic.”
We get to work cooking the ground beef, heating up the refried beans, and covering the table with foil. I’m glad Ihave something to do with my hands so I have time to rein in my emotions. But I can’t stop my pulse from leaping every time Max steps close to grab an ingredient or something from the cabinets.
“How are you holding up?” he asks as he rips open an enormous bag of shredded cheddar cheese.
“What do you mean? I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
